


The End of the World

by cunttwatula (mindlessadri)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Jearmin Week, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:35:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2828480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindlessadri/pseuds/cunttwatula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin met Jean at a party. Previous they hadn’t known each other. The short version of how they came to meet was this: Eren met Reiner at work, Reiner invited Eren out. Eren decided Reiner’s friends were cool. Eren invited Mikasa to a party. They invited Armin to the next one. Lo behold he met Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> So I didn't finish in time for the last day of Jearmin week but I hope you guys enjoy this anyway.  
> I apologize for any editing errors.

The tattoo artist looked at him doubtfully. “You are sure this is what you want?”

Armin squared up. “I wouldn’t have come in here otherwise.”

“Kid this is a big piece.”

“I know, Charles.”

“Why are people still calling me that? Call me Chuck.” Chuck was a portly bald man with stretched ears, a septum ring, two left brow piercings, a well kept beard, and more tattoos than blank skin. The guy rubbed his chubby bald head. “It’s going to be at least three sessions.”

Armin slammed his hand on the counter and the guy physically jumped. “Enough bullshit, Chuck. I came here because I was told you’re the best. The fastest. Most talented artist in the area. It’s not going to take three sessions. It’s going to take one.”

Chuck narrowed his eyes. “You know how much I charge for those type of sessions? This piece in one go?” He shook the paper he was holding. “We’re talking fifteen plus hours! And that’s just the outline! The coloring is going to be another twelve!”

Armin’s face remained impassive. “That’s not even including breaks!”

“You really think I would have walked in here if I hadn’t known how much this was going to cost me? Time? Money?” Armin gestured to his himself. “Look at me Chuck.” He was small, not built. Even if he trained five days a week he didn’t have it in his genes to pack on muscle. He would have just gotten lean and maybe tone. Hell, he was wearing red high waters and a neon green shirt that said make love not war in what can only be described as 70s themed font. For christ sakes he was a well to do kid from the burbs wearing jangly gold necklaces and real diamond studs in both ears. In other words he more than anybody knew what he was doing when he drove his Jetta to the west side’s music scene and walked into a metal tattoo shop.

Chuck leaned on the counter and ran his thick hands over his face. “Are you a virgin?”

“What!” Armin lost his steam and turned beet red. “I hardly think that’s going to affect the tattooing process”

“Oh god you are.”

“I am not!” Armin said indignantly.

Chuck laughed tugging at his beard. “I meant are you a tattoo virgin. You are. Anyone who wasn’t would have caught my drift.” He stared off in the distance at nothing in particular. “So you're a virgin canvas who wants a three sitting tattoo  outline done in one sitting.”

“Money is expendable for me. If you won’t do it I’ll find somebody who will.”

“Hey now. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. Just I need to know why?”

Armin quirked his eyebrow. “You need to know?”

Chuck smoothed the sketch across the counter. He had to admit it was done by somebody with talent. “You really think I take on huge projects like this without any emotional investment?”

He sighed and looked around the store as if somebody would save him. “You, uh,” Armin licked his lips, the feeling threatened to take him. “You ever been in love Chuck?

* * *

Armin met Jean at a party. Previous they hadn’t known each other. The short version of how they came to meet was this: Eren met Reiner at work, Reiner invited Eren out. Eren decided Reiner’s friends were cool. Eren invited Mikasa to a party. They invited Armin to the next one. Lo behold he met Jean.

Degenerate was a word that came to mind when Armin first met the people Eren had been hanging out with for the last month. Which was surprising because Reiner looked a lot like them. Well off. Suburban. Educated.

Come to find out later Reiner knew Jean from childhood. Also come to find out Jean was the same. Well off. Suburban. Educated. The difference was the parents. Armin’s were researchers in biomedicine. Eren’s were a surgical dream team. Mikasa’s did something in the government she wasn’t allowed to talk about. Jean’s? They were detached and instead of becoming the type of child that threw himself into school to impress his parents he rejected them. Disappointed them. Became something they’d never planned for. At least that was Armin’s theory.

Jean had blue hair and an undercut his natural color. One lip piercing. Both ears pierced. A spiderweb tattooed on his neck. A smile that could kill. Honey hazel eyes. The ability to make Armin’s mouth dry and his blood liquid fire.

“Jean.” He introduced himself reaching out a hand which Armin took. He was seated on a large chair with his legs thrown over the side and a cold, bottled beer in hand.

“Armin.” It was the first and last thing Armin said to him all night.

Jean flirted with Mikasa.

Eren decked him in the face.

Mikasa pulled Eren to the car by his ear.

Armin followed because that was his ride.

“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” He said to nobody imparticular and raced out after them.

* * *

Jean was Horseface after that. According to Eren anyway.

Mikasa would just roll her eyes and pat Eren’s knee as if saying you don’t have to be so bull headed.

They didn’t stop going to parties after that. Eren got along too well with Reiner and his other friends. Mikasa enjoyed the pot that was always plentiful. For such a serious person she was surprisingly all about recreational drug use. Armin? He enjoyed going and sitting in whatever room Jean was occupying and trying to think of a conversation topic he could bring up if he ever got the chance.

It wasn’t that Armin was a shut in Jean was just a new creature. It was like looking at him - Armin could have been him. He wondered what it was like to have all this privilege and squander it. Armin was thankful for his upbringing but he loathed his environment. He had so much to live up to. Since he was young people had talked about what a success he would be due to his breeding and edge on the competition. He didn't know if he wanted it but he’d embraced it.

Everyone around him had embraced it. Mikasa was studying something related to international relations. Even Eren with all the arguing and bitching he did was studying biology with a focus in genetic modification.

Then there was Jean. He’d rejected it. Rejected it hard and thoroughly.

Armin went to the bathroom and when he came out he decided to explore a little. Down the hall he smelled pot. Hoping he could get Mikasa to join him he went. The door the pot smell was coming from led to a converted garage. Whoever’s house this was was obviously in some sort of band. The smell got stronger as he rounded the partition and he walked right into a snare knocking it to the ground.

“Oh. Oh I’m sorry.” He stooped to pick it up. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to.” He looked up and staring back at him over his shoulder was Jean. Only Jean.

He was seated in front of a well sized tv playing Mario Kart. Jean was smiling in such a way lesbians might be forced to turn straight.

Armin thought he might be a tad drunk. He stood and tried not to wobble. “Sorry.” He said again.

“S’ fine.” Jean was sitting on a large white leather ottoman that took up the vast majority of the space between the L-shaped sectional and tv. There were plush rugs, blankets, and pillows strewn about as well.

He didn’t move. Jean’s eye kept him frozen. He felt like he was being tallied up. Keep-the-blond-kid-here or send-the-blond-kid-on-his-way tallied up.

After a second Jean spoke again. “You want to hang out?” The smile hadn’t left his face.

Armin swallowed and nodded. Wordlessly he sat beside Jean on the ottoman. “What you playing?” He asked even though he knew.

“Mario.”

“Really?”

Jean just nodded. “Can’t beat a classic.” He played until he finished the course. Setting down the controller he looked to Armin. “So are we going to make out or what?”

“What?” Armin nearly choked.  

Hazel eyes glinted. “I mean. We could. I’m just saying we have the opportunity.” Jean’s eyes were red.

“You’re high.” Armin pointed out weakly.

Jean nodded slowly as if he was actually considering what Armin said. “You’re tipsy.”

Jean came closer and Armin swallowed hard. His hands were in his lap balled up in little fists. “So we probably shouldn’t.” Armin could feel Jean’s breath against against his mouth. It smelled heavily of good weed.

“Yeah. Probably not.”

Armin didn’t pull away Jean had given him the chance. It wasn’t like Jean was being forceful rather he was enabling. Nobody could be mad at a child told not to have sweets before dinner who was presented with a cookie when nobody was looking.

Jean’s mouth tasted like pot and chocolate mints. His hands relaxed and Jean grabbed one to put at the base of his blue hair. Armin needed no instruction and he tugged at Jean’s dark roots and let out a shaky breath against the side of Jean’s cheek. Jean capped his mouth and slid his tongue over his with such practiced technique Armin felt it in his toes.

He was pushed back slowly against the white leather. Armin felt overly aware of himself. Jean was so _cool_  with his piercings and hair and long, beautiful fingers. If Armin could remember correctly at this moment Jean was wearing a long sleeved black hoodie, dark tight pants, and classic converse high tops. In contrast he’d come to the party in slightly baggy light blue jeans rolled to look like high waters, a salmon colored sweater with a denim button up underneath to border his collar and sleeves, and white vuittons for fucks sake.

If he’d been a southern belle Armin suspects he would have fainted with the way Jean was tongue fucking his mouth. He felt like he was sprinting to keep up in the least. Jean wasn’t being pushy. He was still only half over Armin one hand keeping Armin’s hair from his face and the other had just barely made contact with his hip. He felt suddenly nervous and Jean noticed.

“You okay?” Jean whispered against his neck.

Armin swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I just. I’m okay with kissing you know.”

“Okay. So let’s just kiss. This hand,” Jean took his hand away from Armin’s hip and awkwardly cupped his cheek. “Is going to go back to where it just was and only go up. Under your shirt. Across your stomach.  To your chest.”

Armin could do little but follow his libido and agree.

Jean made good on his promise as he moved his other hand to grip Armin’s left above his head. Armin - because that was the kids name - had been silently stalking him at the last three parties. Jean had asked Reiner to keep inviting him because Jean had never had such a cute guy so obviously interested in him. Satisfying his male cravings had always been difficult. He didn’t drink in excess and when he did he wasn’t going to do it at the local gay bar. Past that he went to a lot of concerts and while everyone was chill for the most part it wasn’t like anyone was advertising. Admittedly his initial plan to flirt with Armin's friend, Mikasa, until he came over to try and put a stop it had been misguided at best. A tipsy misjudgement of a guy he hardly knew at worse.

The blond was unfolding beneath him. He made the cutest sounds and most of them reverberated over his tongue and down his throat. The skin of his navel was so soft under his fingers. Maybe he was a late bloomer in the way of sexual things because Armin’s skin goosed from the light touching alone. That, or he was just sensitive and both options were equally appealing. The way Armin pulled at his hair was desperate and needy. Jean started to feel more like they were putting forth an equal effort and then Armin cussed in his mouth and blood shot straight to his cock.

“Fuck it.” Armin spread his knees and Jean took it as a cue that they were going to do more than kiss. His suspicion was confirmed when he suddenly felt one hand leave his hair and palm his through his pants.

“You’re sure?”

Armin panted. “It’s just handjobs.”

Jean moved one knee up to rub against the growing bulge in Armin’s pants. His hand that had never quite made it to Armin’s chest abandoned it’s mission and fumbled with the button to Armin’s jeans.

Armin’s hands were obviously more dexterous in this instance because he had Jean’s cock free in a matter of moments. He broke their kiss just long enough to see what he was dealing with. Jean was thick and the color was exceptionally golden. Armin spit in his hand and used it to lubricate Jean’s shaft. When he pumped downwards the foreskin peeled back to reveal a lovely dark pink tip.

Jean more or less moaned when Armin’s thumb flicked over his head. He’d admit then that he wasn’t go to last long. Finally he got Armin’s stupid pants undone and he wasted no time taking Armin’s cock in hand. It’d all been so normal until that moment. He broked their kiss. “Jesus.”

“What?”

Jean just licked his lips. “That curve.” He loved it. He wanted to worship in on his knees, in his mouth, anything.

Armin flushed pink. “All penises are different. Mine just has a little bit of a curve -”

Jean shut him up with a kiss. “It’s fucking hot.” He resumed their kissing but it was only a moment before Armin pulled away eyes wide.

“You’re decorated?” He adjusted his head to get a better look as the stud on the underside of Jean’s cock. It was just two silver balls on either side of the center of the base right before the scrotum.

Jean only smiled at him. Then they were kissing again nice and heavy and dirty. Armin’s tongue rolled over Jean’s lip piercing as he furiously pumped his cock and considering how high he was Jean had no reason to believe he was going to last. Now that it seemed Armin was gaining confidence Jean felt like he was just barely keeping up. Without warning his balls drew up and he was cumming hot and sticky over Armin’s fingers and sweater.

Armin followed soon after. He lasted about a half second longer as Jean’s hand pressed with the perfect amount of pressure against his tip.

Their kissing slowed as they both recovered. Jean’s mouth moved gently against his and they were both smiling like mad. Jean’s tongue slid slowly out of his mouth making sure to glide gently against his own.

Jean collapsed next to Armin breathing heavy and cock hanging limp. He was about to say something when he heard Reiner’s voice.

“Jesus Christ you horny bisexual deviant.”

Armin’s face turned red. Redder anyway. Jean just threw a glorious middle finger up as Reiner grabbed the spare case of beer in the fridge behind them.

“His friends are heading this way. Just saying you fuck face.”

Armin sat up. “Oh no. Eren’s going to kill you.”

Jean followed him up. “What? I mean there was consent. Please tell me this was a mutual thing or I’m going to puke.”

“Yes! Yes it was mutual but,” Armin pulled at his hair. “EREN.”

“Dude. I don’t know what saying his name louder means.”

Armin looked at his sweater suddenly mortified. “Look. Eren’s my best friend for lord knows what reason and he’s just protective.”

“It’s not like you’re his property.”

“No. But. You just. Just trust me on this one he’s going to see the guy who hit on his girlfriend a few weeks ago and has now heavily made out with his friend and he’s going to think you’re a fucking fuck.”

“A fucking fuck. Really?”

Armin ignored him. “Fuck I have cum all over my sweater.”

“Just take it off.”

“Jean.” Armin looked scandalized. “I can’t just wear denim on denim like that! This isn’t the 90s.”

Jean rolled his eyes but decided to help anyway. He unzipped his hoodie and pushed it into Armin’s lap. “C’mon now take your sweater off. You can tell them you spilled shit on it”

Armin had just finished turning his sweater inside out when Eren and Mikasa rounded the partition. “Yo.” Armin watched Eren’s eye survey the situation. “You okay to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Horseface giving you trouble?”

Jean sighed. “Jesus man. I already apologized about hitting on your girlfriend.”

Armin shook his head. “No we were just playing Mario.” Eren’s eyes were suspicious. He looked to Mikasa for help.

“Eren. He says he’s fine.”

Armin watched the magic that was Mikasa’s reassurance sweep over his best friend and he relaxed. “Yeah. You’re right. Anyway. Home?”

He stood, “Yeah. Let’s go.” He looked over his shoulder. “Um, bye Jean.” He couldn’t help but notice that Jean didn’t look impressed with him.

* * *

_hey. It’s Armin. -_ 9:37a

_I_ got _your number from reiner_. - 9:39a

_I got his number from eren. I didn’t just have is number_ \- 9:52a

Jean smiled at his phone. God save him he was in trouble. He texted back.

_shhh. there is only sleep._ \- 9:58a

His phone buzzed.

_‘o’ I’m sorry! -_ 9:59a

So much trouble.

_not helping._ \- 10:01a

_let’s get coffee_ \- 10:15a

Not even a second later he got his reply.

_okay ^^;_ \- 10:15a

Jean rubbed sleep from his eyes. “You could at least try not to look so eager.”

That was a lie. He loved it.

* * *

Armin was interesting. He loved history but he was studying biology. In the two hours they’d been there Armin had talked about how coffee was only so popular in the USA because the founders used it as a way to distance themselves culturally from the British, the evolution of the apple pie as a symbol of ‘the american dream’, and his favorite passages in the bible.

“You’re religious?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy literature. Are you?”

“Sí.”

Armin smiled at him. So much fucking trouble.

“You know Spanish?”

“I am Spanish,” Jean countered.

“Really.”

“Well my dad’s French. Ancestors were French, really, but that doesn’t stop him from bringing it up every time we go out for French food. My mother’s Mexican.”

Armin was genuinely impressed. “That’s so interesting. My family is a European mutt sort of deal. Do you know a lot about your Mexican heritage?”

“Enough. My mom really likes America. She immigrated after my dad came back from a year long tour in central and south America. So, like, I speak enough Spanish to get me through a conversation but it’s not like I’m fluent. Ma likes to make Mexican food. She’s always sending me home with enchiladas and chile verde because it’s my favorite.” He sipped his coffee. “She’s the reason we're Catholic.”

“You practice?”

Jean raised his eyebrow. “Does it look like I practice? I mean do I really have to remind you about what we did the other night?”

“Does that really mean you can’t practice your faith?”

Jean shrugged. “I know gay people that still do. But for so many years I went to a church that taught me I was a sin. I believe in my God and that he loves me but I can’t be religious and still be myself.”

Armin frowned. “Sorry I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I don’t mind.”

Armin felt dumb. Religion? On a first date? Was this even a date? No. No, he was just here to return the sweater and maybe schedule a second coffee outing with the premise of a date. “Oh!” He fumbled in his bag and pulled out the black hoodie. “Here.”

Jean took the sweater from him slowly. “You could have kept this.”

“It’s yours,” he said simply.

Was it too early to say _I want you to keep it because I’m pretty sure I’m done dating for the next couple years_. Jean decided yes. Sometimes things just felt right. Armin felt right. The more Armin talked the more he felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into that dark blinding madness of desire. “Can I be honest?” Armin seemed to pale. “It’s not bad.”

“Sure.”

He felt dumb before he said it. “I really like you. Like a lot. I think we should date. Feel free to - “

“Yes.” Armin slapped a hand over his mouth and blushed. Smooth Armin. Real smooth.

* * *

Admittedly they were both kind of dumb. It took Jean one date to fall in love hard and without any sort of back up plan. Armin wasn’t much better off. It took three.

“We have to tell our friends.” Armin said. He was laying on Jean’s floor mattress looking at him. He’d spent the night at Jean’s apartment for the first time. They’d been dating about six weeks. They’d fucked probably upwards of twenty-five times. Always at Jean’s apartment. Armin always went home. Mostly because his parents were overly involved in his life and he never wanted to explain why he didn’t come home.

Jean’s apartment was rather bare aside from his art work. Armin was dating a tattoo artist and that alone made him hot. He supposed that also explained Jean’s own tattoos and piercings. Jean had trained under a man affectionately known as Big Charles. Jean swore he was the best. Everything he apparently aspired to be.

He stared at his lover’s back. Armin loved Jean’s back. His shoulders were broad and there were a few scattered moles. Not only on his back but also his forearms and chest. Each knob of his spine was pronounced when he sat on the edge of the mattress. Jean always smoked after sex. Mostly pot. Sometimes cigarettes. This time it was pot.

Armin’s eyes followed the line of the large piece on Jean’s back. It was a full color piece of the Virgin Mary except her face was painted like a skull. She was coming out of the intricate gold frame that started at the base of Jean’s neck and ended between Jean’s hipbones. Armin loved the vibrant blue silk that covered her head and the way it was embellished with yellow threads that gathered on the edge in little balls. She reminded Armin of a 40s model in a strange way.

Jean set his bowl to the side and laid back down with Armin. “You’re the one that has to tell your friends. I already told you I want to be open. You’re the one worried about Eren.”

Armin snuggled up next to him and sighed. Jean didn’t understand the complicated relationship he had with his two best friends. “I don’t want him to go berserk.”

“I’ll fight him for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Armin’s voice lifted.

“I’ll defend your honor.”

Armin rolled his eyes. “My honor doesn’t need any defending. Not from the like of you anyway.”

“You wound me.” Jean feigned indignation.

He twisted his boyfriends nipple.

“Ow!” Jean laughed and turned away.

“I’m serious. _We’re_ serious.”

Jean relented. “Fine. How did you want to do it?”

“I want to tell Eren and Mikasa alone. Then we can be out to whoever we want.”

“That’s fine with me.” Jean kissed the top of Armin’s head and breathed out slow. “Jesus I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

Eren was staring at him. It’d taken Armin another two weeks to actually tell Mikasa and Eren so by the time he did him and Jean had been dating two months.

“Well. Say something.”

Eren put his chopsticks down. They were out to sushi at their favorite place. Armin figured if it went badly Eren would be less likely to throw a tantrum in a place he respected. It’s not that Armin hadn’t dated before and he was probably building Eren’s protective streak ten fold but he’d never dated somebody that Eren had come to dislike so quickly. Despite what optimists would say your friends’ opinions _did_ matter.

“You’re shitting me. That’s where you’ve been the last two months? With that asshole?”

“He’s not an asshole Eren.” Armin was already exasperated.

“Armin. He’s scum.”

“You don’t know shit Eren.” Armin snapped. “I know you don’t like him but I do. I _love_ him. He’s not any of these things you say about him. He’s sweet and kind and thoughtful.”

Eren sighed. Mikasa ate her sashimi. “He hit on Mikasa. That doesn’t creep you out. Like you were his second choice?”

Armin’s stomach felt cold. He’d never thought of that. “No it doesn’t.” It made him anxious.

Mikasa put her hand on Eren’s cheek. “To be fair there are always people hitting on me. You never react this terribly.”

“Because of that guys face, baby! Did you see it. With the beady eyes and toothy smile and square jaw.”

“Ah.” She sipped her drink. “I get it now.”

Eren looked indignant. “What do you mean ‘ah?’”

Mikasa shrugged. “I guess it has been a while.” She wiped her mouth. “Guess we can’t ask Armin anymore, though. Since you’re in a relationship.”

“That’s right.”

Eren seemed to catch her meaning all at one. “I am not attracted to that fuck Mikasa!”

Again she shrugged but Armin could see the playfulness in the way her lips twitched. “We’ll go to the bar this weekend and find us a beautiful boy. Or we could ask Reiner.”

Armin laughed. Eren was pouting now. “I’m not trying to feel like a fucking twink. You know I don’t like super manly guys.”

“I was just teasing.”

Eren sighed then leveled his eye at Armin. “One. I don’t think your boyfriend is attractive. Two. Fine you’re dating him. Three.”

Armin rolled his eyes and said what he knew was coming. “If he fucks me over you’ll fuck him up. Yes I know.”

“No. Well, yes, but does he know?”

“Know?”

“Usually you give your partners full disclosure about me and Mikasa. I mean this is the first time you’ve agreed when Mikasa said we can’t call you anymore.” Eren threw his arm over the back of Mikasa’s chair and sipped his beverage. “Obviously you don’t have to tell him. But, I mean, what if he finds out. Also he’s not here.”

“What are you implying?” Armin’s eyes narrowed.

Mikasa and Eren met eyes. The silent communication worked all three ways but there were still private exchanges. “He means,” Mikasa thought. “You know we don’t care if you have relationships. We want you to be happy.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Eren interjected.

“We’ve all always known that was our line. Me and Eren were romantic; our relationships with you are platonic and sexual. You can agree with that.”

“Yes I know. We all had this conversation years ago.” Armin talked around his food. “What are you getting at?”

Mikasa brushed her hair back over her ear. “I always ask the same question when you tell us about your partners. Usually they’re with you when that happens. Are you sure you didn’t bring him because you knew that?”

Armin huffed. “I didn’t bring him because I wasn’t sure how Eren would react.”

Neither of them bought that. Armin could tell. He suddenly couldn’t believe he was trying to sell it.

* * *

Him and Jean met at this bar by Jean’s apartment. They had a small stage that showcased local metal and rock bands every thursday night at nine. Jean was already standing at the bar with a bottle in hand.

Armin went right up to him and kissed his cheek. “Hey, good-looking.”

Jean smiled and turned to kiss Armin fully. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

“Gay.”

“Super gay,” Armin agreed. The night was early as far as music went but, “Do you think we could talk?”

Jean was mid sip when Armin asked. He nearly choked. People in relationships didn’t say that unless somebody was about to get angry, be heartbroken, or otherwise upset. Casually as he could he responded. “Yeah. Should we go back to the apartment?”

Armin nodded and they left.

Jean slid the metal door shut and latched it. Again, casually, he leaned against the cold metal and willed his heart to stop pounding in his chest. He was honestly relieved when Armin pressed close and snuggled up under his chin. “Everything go okay at dinner?”

“Yeah. Eren was a bit skeptical at first but he came around.”

Armin was breathing deeply against him. “Don’t fall asleep standing up please.”

“Was I your second choice? I mean, next to Mikasa.”

Jean’s eyes went wide with terror. “No. No, never.” He realized in their time together he’d failed to mention how his plan at that first party had backfired. “I mean. Yeah, I flirted with her. But I was almost drunk and I had this stupid idea that the cute blond, you, would come over and talk to me if he saw me flirting with his friend.”

“Why would I come over?”

“Because you we’re staring at me. I mean it was super obvious.”

“I was staring because you’re such a dork.” Armin laughed. “Thank Jesus I wasn’t second. I think I would have cried.”

Jean kissed the top of his head. “I don’t know if Jesus is going to feel comfortable taking credit for that one.”

Armin pinched him and they laughed. “I have to tell you something. I don’t want you to be mad.”

“I knew it. You hate my tattoos”

“What?” Armin looked up. His face was scrunched. “No. I believe I spent the other night tracing the lines of your hip tattoos with my tongue. So no. Not that.”

“Good. Laser removal costs too much. Plus nobody is going to respect a tattoo artist without tats.”

“You’re trying to change the subject before it’s even begun. It’s not bad. I mean. I don’t think it’s bad. How you react to it is all up to you.”

“Fine. Let me have it.”

Armin took a breath. “I use to sometimes have sex with Eren and Mikasa.”

There was a long pause. Armin looked up. Jean was staring at a spot on the far wall and stepped out of Armin’s embrace. He felt his stomach disintegrate to nothing.

* * *

Jean’s eyes were puffy in the morning. It’d been three days since he’d fought with Armin. The first day they’d yelled and screamed and then Armin had said something like, “I’ll go it’s obvious you don’t want me here.” Which hadn’t been untrue in the moment but in the long run Jean wanted Armin there with him. The second day Armin text him: _are we talking?_ He’d never gotten back because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk yet. Then he’d gotten home after midnight. Drunk. And cried because he felt like an idiot.

He didn’t care that Armin had sex with Eren and Mikasa. It retrospect he understood why. Sex was awkward for anybody. Doing it with people you trusted and cared for was the best because there was an elevated level of comfort. Not to doubt or downplay casual sex which was also great. Jean had been an avid partaker up until, well, Armin.

If he was being honest he was upset because Armin hadn’t told him sooner. Had he’d known sooner he wouldn’t have been so adamant about being out to their friends because that could have been a complicated thing to navigate. It didn’t seem like it was now that Dick-for-Brain and Mikasa knew.

The other thing was that Jean had wanted to be out to his friends. He wanted people to know he had a partner. Armin not being forthcoming had prevented that.

He rolled around on his bed. He was making this a lot about him. What about Armin? He obviously hadn’t told him because he was afraid of his reaction which presented a larger problem. Armin didn’t trust him. Or at the very least thought that this would matter to Jean.

Jean was just beginning to contemplate how to rectify the situation when there was loud knock on his door. He sighed and threw on the closest piece of clothing that could pass as a shirt.

“Yeah?” He opened the door and a fist connected with his chest. It didn’t have much power. Only enough to make it hurt.

“You fuck face.”

Jean groaned it was way too early to deal with this brat. “Nice to see you too, Eren.”

“Mikasa’s here too.” Jean stepped to the side. So now he was in trouble with the best friends. Awesome.

“Hey Mikasa.”

“Jean.”

Eren was surveying the apartment. “Quite the place you got here.”

Jean decided that was probably an insult. “What can I attribute your visit to?”

Mikasa was flat. Matter of fact. “Armin won’t leave his house. We tried to take him to a movie to cheer him up.”

“Didn’t even make it to the care before he started crying.”

Jean leaned against the steel door like he’d done the other night. “Wait he’s crying?”

“He thinks you guys are broken up,” Mikasa was for some reason or another folding the pile of laundry on the table.

Eren leveled his eyes at him. “We want to know if you are since you won’t text him back.”

“No.” Jean said without thinking. “We’re not broken up. I _love_ him. Did he forget that?”

Eren and Mikasa shared a look. “Jesus the both of you are idiots.” Eren rubbed his eyes. “C’ mon Mikasa. We told mom and dad we’d help them with Christmas shit.”  As they left Eren stuck a finger in his face. “You make this up to him or next time I won’t hold back.”

They left and Jean decided he should probably find a real shirt.

* * *

Finding Armin’s house had been the most difficult part of this apology. He’d had to call Reiner to get Eren’s number so Eren could give him the address. It’d been a process.

Now he was here and there was no answer at the door. He’d gotten a text from an unknown number he assumed was Mikasa’s shortly after he’d convinced Eren to give up the address. _key under the planter._

Jean let himself in and went to the second floor. All the doors were open but one. He knocked.

“Go away.” Armin called back. What a brat. He didn’t even know who was at the door.

Jean let himself in. “Armin.”

The blond in question stood from where he was sitting in his bay window. “Jean.”

He looked unsure and Jean hated it. _They_ were sure. They would be the one thing left at end of the world. Armin had nothing to be worried about. He wouldn’t leave him not even if the going got tough. Jean crossed the room and pulled Armin down to sit next to him in the window. “First. I love you but if you ever think we’re broken up again I’m going to scream.”

Armin smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. “I love you too.”

“Until the end of the world?”

“Until the end of the world.”

* * *

Armin met Jean’s parents about six and a half months after they made their relationship public. His father was tall, broad, and handsome with his barely there gray hair and goatee. His mother was gorgeous. She reminded Armin of the Virgin Mary on Jean’s back. He’d already had reservations about fucking Jean from behind with the Virgin Mary there. He was even more doubtful now that it was going to remind him of Jean’s mother.

Mariposa and Edmund were their names. Whatever previous notions Armin had about Jean’s parents were false. They loved their son. Their son had been free to do what he wanted in life. Jean hadn’t rebelled he’d just chosen a path most people in their position would never even consider.

“Jean,” his father spoke. “How’s the tattooing going?”

Jean swallowed his menudo. Armin had asked what was in it and Jean had told him he didn’t want to know. It tasted good.

“It’s great, dad. I have a strong client base and a third shop just offered me a chair if I want it.”

“Would you make more money?” Mariposa asked her accent was thick. She wore a cross around her neck and a red dress the church would never approve of.

Jean squeezed more lime onto his soup. “I could probably start charging three hundred an hour since it’s considered more reputable.”

She nodded knowingly. “You know. A few of our musicians would love a piece by you.”

“Mom I’m not trying to get anywhere on tail coats.”

Mariposa waved him off with both hands.

There was a lull. Armin hadn’t spoken much that evening and he was starting to wonder if Jean had told them they were dating before hand or if they just thought he was a friend.

“So this new chair thing - “ His father started. “Is that what you wanted to have dinner for?”

Jean set down his spoon. “Uh, no actually.”

His mother’s face lit up. “Oh, you have a girlfriend!”

“What?” Jean’s face twisted in annoyance. “No. I don’t -”

His mother kept at it. “You’ll have to bring her by soon. Maybe for the fourth?”

“Mom! Shut up!”

“Don’t speak to your mother that way,” his father sounded more exasperated than anything. He winked at Armin.

Jean rubbed his face. “Mom. _I’m sorry_. I don’t have a girlfriend. I am in a relationship though. With Armin.”

Armin felt suddenly spotlighted as Mariposa turned her gaze on him. “¿Éste flaco niño?”

“Ma!”

“¿Qué pasa con su amigo Jean? El hombre fuerte y rubio.” She gestured to her head. “Él es muy guapo.”

“Ma. Me encanta.” They stared at each other across the table.

“¿Que lo amas?

“Yes.”

“Dios mío.” She turned to Armin. “So, what do you do for work Armin?”

Ed smiled and threw an arm over his wife’s chair like he’d known it would all work out.

* * *

It’d been a year since they got together.

“I think you should move in.” Jean came out of the bathroom. His hair was sopping wet and there was a towel over his shoulders to catch the blue drips from his freshly dyed hair.

Armin looked up from the middle of Jean’s bed where he was doing homework. He’d be graduating soon. At the end of the school year. They hadn’t been able to spend much time together. “I don’t have a job.”

“You’re getting paid for your lab work right?” Jean knelt on the bed and leaned in to kiss Armin before collapsing on his side of the bed and grabbing his sketch book.

“Well, yeah. But it’s not like a _lot_. “

“I don’t mind. We can go fifty-fifty on bills and I’ll take care of the rent like I am now.” Armin didn’t look convinced. “I’ll take the chair at the uptown parlor if it’ll convince you. Three-hundred plus an hour.”

“Aren’t you the one that said, and I quote, _I’ll never charge that much. Art should be accessible_.”

“Well,” He paused as he put his pencil to paper. “I guess I lied.”

Armin set down his book and looked over at his boyfriend with exasperation. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Jean set aside his own book and took Armin’s hand across the bed. “Listen.” Armin turned to fully face him. “I want you here with me. If I need to be making more money to do that then that’s what I’ll do. Besides once you graduate and get a job that pays more I can go back to a shop I like.”

He felt Armin squeeze his hand and the warmth spread across his palm. “You’re sure?”

Jean nodded. “I have time Armin. I’m young. Admittedly talented. It’s not like I’m going to stop any time soon.”

Armin felt his face break in half then he was tackling Jean back onto the mattress. “I guess I’m moving in then”. He’d admit that he’d probably just squealed.

* * *

Jean was going through boxes in the closet to make room for Armin’s, honestly, unnecessary collection of clothing.

“Babe!” Armin called him from the main room.

Getting up he rubbed his head and yawned. “Yeah?” He padded out of the closet and went over to the table where Armin was straightening the papers on the table. Jean wrapped his arms around his boyfriend from behind and stooped to rest his chin on Armin’s shoulder.

Armin held up a particular piece of paper for Jean to see. “Is this going on somebody.”

“Oh.” Jean said simply. “No.”

Armin looked over his shoulder. “Why not? It’s beautiful.”

Jean shrugged. “It’s hard to find somebody willing to just let somebody put a piece that large on them.” He watched his boyfriend look over the sketch. It was of a person from behind their arms were placed at their sides and legs together. Wings extended from the shoulders down the back and ended at the ankles. There was the same figure from the front on the next page. The wings wrapped around the front of the until the knees in a neat gradient. Jean spoke. “I’d have to have a clean canvas. No other tattoos.” Armin seemed to think this over. “I drew the first version of this in high school. It’s evolved. I did actual research on wings and stuff so they look at real as possible.”

“Jean. It’s beautiful.”

He felt himself blush. It’s not that he hadn’t been complimented on his work before it’s that being complimented by his lover embarrassed him. “I have other versions of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you my favorite.” Jean went to the bedside table and took out a large piece of folded paper. It looked very similar to the one Armin had found but the feathers were now tipped blue and faded into the skin. Darker blue on the bottom feathers and more teal on the top ones.

“Somebody will let you do it, Jean. You have time.”

* * *

Armin slid the door firmly behind himself. “Jean!” He saw his boyfriend making tea in the kitchen. He slammed into him. Jean barely managed to set his mug down.

“Well somebody is happy to see me.” He pulled Armin closer and the blond tilted his face up. They kissed. “Welcome home.” Jean, deciding he was in the mood, slapped Armin’s ass firmly then squeezed.

“I got it.” Armin was beaming.

His eyes went wide, “You got the job!”

“I got the job!” Armin said again

“Baby that’s great!”

Armin nuzzled his neck. “Now you can go back to tattooing the way you want to.” He shimmied out of Jean’s embrace and started stripping off his clothes as he walked backwards to their bed. “C’ mon. Time for congratulatory sex.”

Jean forgot about the tea and rushed Armin. They both fell back onto the mattress kissing, laughing, perfect.

* * *

He’d been having trouble sleeping lately. About the last six months. Thinking about it he’d been feeling pretty shitty for a while. Joints were hurting. Things didn’t taste all that great anymore. Dizzy a lot. Even his sense of smell seemed dull.

Maybe they should get a new bed. It wasn’t like they were at a loss for money. He was tattooing regularly. Armin was making great money, too. He rubbed his eyes and pressed the button on their keurig. Armin had left a mug under the dispenser for him. What a babe.

Something about his body felt more off than usual but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Jean picked up the mug and tried to bring it to his lips. Hot coffee sloshed out of the cup onto the ground and his hand. “Fuck!” He dropped the mug without really meaning to.

Armin ran out of the bathroom holding his toothbrush like it would help. “Jean? You okay?”

He was staring at his hands. Both of them were shaking. Armin set his tooth brush down and went to Jean. He looked scared and _that_ scared Armin. “Babe. What’s wrong?”

“I,” Jean swallowed. “I can’t stop them.”

“Your hands?”

He nodded. “They won’t stop shaking. I don’t shake, Armin. Armin why won’t they stop?”

Jean looked to him and Armin could see all the fear he was experiencing. “Jean. Calm down. Take deep breaths.” Jean did and Armin cupped his face. “Bodies do weird things. Hopefully they’ll stop in a minute okay. Armin took Jean’s hands and held them. They stood in the middle of the kitchen with the bottom of their sleep pants soaking up coffee.

“See?” Armin pulled away and let go of Jean’s hands. They’d stopped. He was running late for work now but at least Jean seemed better. “They stopped.”

* * *

It became obvious there was a problem. The tremors started coming more often. Jean had to keep canceling appointments with clients because his hands would not stop shaking in time for them to start.

He could tell Armin was worried and using his medical knowledge to try and figure out what Jean was experiencing.

Jean had known it was coming before Armin said it one night as they were laying down. Jean had had six days without tremors then that night he’d dropped their plates. He’d tried to play it off and Armin had let him but he could see. Jean knew Armin was just being kind.

“Jean.” Armin smoothed his hair back from his face. “I think you need to see a doctor.”

“No. No, Armin. I don’t want to.”

“Babe you have to.”

“No I fucking don’t!” He knew he was yelling but it was only to cover up how utterly terrified he was.”I - What if they tell me I’m fucked Armin?”

Armin pulled Jean’s face into his chest. “You’re not fucked.” A pause. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

They were sitting in the doctor’s office. He’d had a blood panel, CT scan, MRI, as well as about ten rounds of the same twenty questions from various specialists and here they were in the Neurology Department waiting on some doctor names Diedrick Hansen. Jean looked around his walls. He was a specialist in way too many things. How the hell was he supposed to trust somebody with so many certifications?

Armin’s hand was reassuring on his knee. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Jean smiled for the first time. He believed Armin.

Dr. Hansen came in. He was an older man with a peppered beard and smart glasses. He came around his desk and leaned over. “Mr. Kirstein.” They shook hands. Jean was glad he wasn’t having a tremor episode. “And this is?” He shook Armin’s hand.

“This is my boyfriend, Armin.”

He sat with an, “Ah.” Dr. Hansen adjusted his glasses. “Probably best to have moral support here.”

Jean felt his stomach twist. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” He sighed. “Mr. Kirstein, after days of testing we’ve eliminated numerous diseases and ailments. We’ve been forced to start looking at the diseases we can’t eliminate based on testing. Namely Parkinson’s Disease.”

Armin’s hand was in his and squeezed. Jean wasn’t sure who was trying to comfort who at this point.

Everything sounded far away Armin was asking the doctor about treatment. Clinical trials Jean might be able to get in on. Cost of medications. Time span of degeneration.

Jean didn’t care. “Will I be able to keep my job?”

They stopped talking. “What do you do?”

“I’m a tattoo artist.”

Dr. Hansen’s face was sympathetic. “Your tremors for now are manageable. They don’t seem to be consistent. For now I would suggest taking it one day at a time. There’s no reason for you to stop just yet.”

* * *

Some days were better than others. Armin was as supportive as he could be and forgave Jean every time he snapped out of frustration. He’d drop a plate and insist on cleaning it up himself. They’d fought when Armin boxed up all the glassware and bought the apartment very nice plastic plates and cups. He’d made Armin cry. He’d felt like shit.

Other times it was more emotional than he’d care to admit. He’d be working on a design and then his hand would start trembling. He’d try to steady it with his other hand and put pencil back to paper but it wouldn’t connect his lines were jagged and it turned everything to shit. Jean would rip the papers up and cry. He’d throw the stupid plastic cups and decorative throw pillows they’d picked out when Armin had first moved in almost a year and a half ago now.

Armin would come home and clean up the mess he’d made then draw Jean a bath everytime.

It was hard but he had Armin. Loyal, beautiful, loving, perfect Armin and it was so much more than he deserved.

* * *

Jean realized about a year after his diagnosis he could no longer do large pieces. He couldn’t trust his body not to start shaking halfway through any given session. Small pieces that should have only taken one session were taking two just so he could be sure he wouldn’t fuck up. But big pieces were out of the question. He couldn’t knowingly charge people so much an hour knowing that a tattoo of the same size use to take him two-thirds of the time it was taking him now.

He was in the kitchen mixing pancake batter for Armin’s birthday. He was in his briefs stirring with enough force to push the ingredients together. Armin was still sleeping which he should have been after Jean’s performance last night - early this morning. Jean smirked to himself.

He turned away from the counter bowl in hand to turn on the stove when a tremor hit him. He tried to keep his grip but he was using a steel bowl that was smooth and slipped easily. The bowl tumbled out of his hands and clattered to the floor. The batter spilled out slow and useless all over the linoleum. Jean felt like crying. He struggled to pick up the bowl and dropped it twice more before giving up. _Then_ he was crying.

Armin walked into the kitchen rubbing sleep from his eyes and crouched down beside him.

Jean pushed him unintentionally and Armin fell on his ass. He hated himself and he was going to have a tantrum. He backed himself into the cabinets. “Please don’t. Don’t pity me Armin.”

Armin felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t pity you. I _love_ you.” He sat up. “Baby, I can make breakfast.”

“You don’t get it! _I_ wanted to make _you_ breakfast. I can’t even fucking do that! I’m so useless! You should leave me! I’m just a burden!” The words came almost as quickly as the slap to his face.

Armin had never hit anybody. He’d never been angry enough to. Jean was in pain. He would have given anything to fix it. To make it better but he couldn’t. All he could do was walk behind him and pick up all the pieces of himself he was dropping and force Jean to take them back. Jaw set and voice sharp. “Don’t you ever say that to me again. I love you. I’m not leaving you. I’m here until the end of the world.” He sobbed and his resolve crumbled into sadness. "You told me that at the end of the world we are all that would be left. The world hasn’t ended, Jean. Even if it had we’d still be here.”

It was quiet when he confessed. “I lost it.”

“Lost what?”

“I can’t do large tattoos anymore Armin. I’m never going to see my art work like I did before. I just do pieces off the wall now. I don’t even like drawing anymore. I’m afraid because everytime I draw and then I shake I have to remember I’m falling apart. I’m broken.”

Armin crawled into his boyfriends lap. “You’re not broken. You’re mine and I’ll keep you together when you can’t.”

Jean hugged him and Armin felt Jean’s face in his chest. “I never got to see it. The wings. I thought I had time. Now I’ll never see it Armin.”

* * *

It hadn’t taken much searching to find a tattoo artist named Big Charles. He’d won competitions for crying out loud. He worked in a shop called The Shimmy which sounded like a coffee shop but even from the window Armin could tell there were way more skulls in there than he’d seen in a lifetime.

Jean was out of town with his mother at a Parkinson’s convention. Armin had made up a lame excuse about work that had made him feel really bad because he knew Jean wanted him there but this was more important.

He took Jean’s drawing out of his back pocket and smoothed it out against his knee. It was Jean’s favorite version of his wings. The one with with the gorgeous blue tipped feathers.

Armin took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the door.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to contact me with questions and as always comments and kudos are appreciated. ^^;


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